


Puppies

by BeaRyan



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cute, Gen, Lots of healing, Not Shippy, Trope: Just add baby animals, minimal angst, therapy dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Raven are devastated by Finn's death.  Each is coping in her own way, but Bellamy thinks he might have a plan to help them.  Cute little balls of fluff from a radiation soaked earth are the solution to this problem.  Yeah.  Everybody loves puppies, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppies

The scrap of meat landed by her foot with a wet thud and Clarke scrambled backwards away from it and up onto her cot. A foot-long bundle of fur and claws scurried across the floor to the morsel, first sniffing it and then nudging it with its nose before its long, pink tongue snaked out to scoop up the bite and slide it back between the creature's tiny teeth. 

With her feet pulled up on the cot and out of the reach of the creature, Clarke flicked her gaze to Bellamy who stood grinning by the door to her room. She asked, "What is it?" 

"Kitten? Dog? Wolf?" He shrugged. He had no idea what it was. Lincoln had said it was a baby. It could be easily domesticated and would be fiercely loyal to whoever fed and groomed it. Octavia had named hers Boudica, after the warrior queen, and within a week the creature had declared Octavia's room off limits to anyone but Lincoln and Octavia, a development that hadn't thrilled Bellamy, especially after the animal sank its teeth into his the ankle of his boot. It hadn't broken through the leather, but it was still young. 

He'd asked Lincoln about getting one for Clarke, and a day later the animal had been waiting in a box in his room. Clarke put on a good show of being fine, nodding when she was told she'd done the right and merciful thing for Finn and gritting her teeth and avoiding comment when much else was said. There were those in Camp Jaha who thought he'd gotten off too easily and that everyone who had gone to the dropship should have been punished for taking him out of camp in the first place. Bellamy had hurried down the hall with the animal. He needed the old Clarke back. They all did. 

Once it had finished with the meat, the animal - he decided to call it a puppy for simplicity's sake - scurried back to him, its clawed feet slipping on the smooth floor as it crossed the room. "He's yours, Clarke."

"Why?"

"Animal therapy is a thing, right?" 

"You think I need therapy?"

"You need something." 

Clarke crossed the room, stopping a little further from him than she normally would to avoid coming with the range of the teeth that tugged at the laces of Bellamy's boots. "I need to go to Mount Weather. I need to rescue the 48. I need the Council to stop dragging its feet. What I don't need is a wild animal urinating on my floor." 

Bellamy glanced down and the spreading wet spot on the floor and recoiled as the scent reached him. He handed her the sack of meat bits he’d brought with him. "Then you better start training him." 

She named him Hippocrates, after the doctor, and called him Hippo, because no matter what people said she thought she had a sense of humor. Hippo was housebroken quickly, and with that out of the way she moved on to fetch, sit, and other commands. By the time the animal was six months old he followed Clarke’s instructions so well many in Camp Jaha suspected he understood English. 

XXX

After two weeks with Hippo Clarke was, if not happy, at least not swallowed by shadows the way she’d been since Finn’s execution. Bellamy asked Lincoln how one of the dogs would do with Raven. She didn’t have Clarke’s patience and need to control; the creature would a companion, accepted as is once certain basic standards were met, not carefully nurtured and directed the way that Hippo was or coddled and trained for war like a feral baby the way Boudica was. Lincoln had said it would take more time to find the right one, one that wouldn’t try to dominate her and accepted that she didn’t dominate it either, but it could be done. 

When Raven’s dog was finally found, she was in the brig. Again. This time the idiot whose nose she’d broken had yelled at a kid for spilling a bucket of water, calling the child "as wasteful as the Spacewalker." Raven had decked him, just like she'd slugged the last one who’d said that a soldier who had accidentally discharged his weapon had "gone Spacewalker." Spacewalker was a slur now, a name for someone carelessly destructive, and every time she heard it she threw a punch. If the fool didn't have the sense to stay down, she threw them until he did. 

The stockade was becoming a second home for her. Abby refused to have her shocked and they needed her skills too much to leave her locked up during the day, so after work she reported to her cell. Given the state of camp, it was barely any different from her room, just a little colder without a chair. The threat of her punishment did nothing to deter her from knocking down some bastard who had it coming. Bellamy would have let her knock idiots out endlessly if it was helping her, but a wounded look of loss and betrayal made her seem about to crumple every time she heard Finn's name, and then she fused the cracks in her armor shut with rage. She was miserable. 

He let himself into her cell - being in the guard again had its perks - and sat down beside her on the floor with the puppy between them. 

“I’m not Clarke. You aren’t dumping a dog on me.” 

“I dumped a dog on Clarke. Any dog, didn’t matter which one, and I knew she’d boss it around until it behaved. That’s Clarke. Yours took more work.” 

She gave him a glance and let the silence ask the question. 

“Check her collar,” he said. 

Raven ran a hand around the animal’s shoulders, and it leaned against her, letting her scratch its fur as she worked her way towards the magnetic strip around its neck. She plucked off the first item, a small screw, and then felt her way around the band, inspecting the washers, nuts, and even a tiny screwdriver as she went. 

Raven smiled slightly. “She’s a mechanic.” 

“Youngest four pawed mechanic in the history of Camp Jaha.” 

They sat in silence for a bit longer, and when the animal started to shiver, pressing into Raven for warmth, she scooped her up and lifted her into her lap, sparing the animal the chill of the floor and giving it more comfort than she allowed herself. 

“Set a good example. If she bites, you won’t be able to keep her,” Bellamy warned. 

Splice was a lazy, good-natured dog, content to be wherever Raven was. Once she was housebroken, Raven considered her training complete enough. Clarke taught the dog to fetch Raven’s cane. Octavia taught the dog to sniff the crotch of the head of security when told to “get the big Kane.” 

XXX

The dogs weighed over two-hundred pounds each when they were a year old. The council had banned all new pets when the first animal had passed sixty pounds. Octavia’s Boudica was intimidating, never hesitating to show her teeth to anyone who looked at Octavia in a way she didn’t like. Splice was the opposite, rarely taking notice of anyone but Raven and a few other people she decided were worth her time. Anyone else could go float. Hippo was the pack leader when the animals got together, encouraging both of them to play but never letting them run too far or wrestle too roughly. 

The dogs were assisting with defense training, retrieving the deactivated grenades the guard used for slingshot practice, when Boudica took off into the woods, barking and sprinting as she went. Hippo raced after her and Splice brought up the rear. The guards all moved inside the fence line, closing the gates and taking up defensive positions. Raven, Octavia and Clarke traded glances, each trying to look unconcerned. Boudica liked to hunt; she might just be running down a deer, but she was trained for battle, too. 

When Lincoln emerged from the cover of the trees, Bellamy called out, “Stand down,” to the soldiers on alert, but he didn’t order the gate opened. Octavia shoved at him, and he ignored her. If all was fine Lincoln would be there in a few minutes and if it wasn’t then he wouldn’t want Octavia exposed to harm. Hippo corralled the other dogs into order and the three of them trailed Lincoln down the hill towards camp. 

Bellamy didn’t open the gate when he arrived.

“Am I no longer welcome?” Lincoln asked. 

“You are, but that,” Bellamy nodded towards a puppy whose head peeked over the edge of a sack Lincoln carried slung across his chest, “Isn’t. No more pets in camp.” 

“This isn’t a pet. This is a gift to you, personally, from Indra.”

“It’s still a pet.” 

“It could be, or you could eat it, maybe get two meals. You could make it into a tool of war. It will die if you turn it away or fail to protect it from the older animals. This is a test of you, Bellamy, sent by the leader of a neighboring tribe. What will you do?” 

Bellamy opened the gate without an answer, letting in Lincoln and the other dogs and taking the puppy when it was handed to him. The council had a meeting and made its decision, and he listened to the advice of those he trusted. He did the best he could to keep them all safe and happy. If that meant he had a foot warmer at night that could also sniff out wherever Octavia had wandered off to or drag an injured person back to camp then so be it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are encouraged. They train your author like the Pavlovian writing puppy that she is.


End file.
